Desk is to Chair as Ass is to Spreading Wildly Without Concern Of Emotional Recoil

Here’s something. You remember those horrific questions on the SAT and GRE? Those “This is to That as That is to _____” and then you have to pick from a list that matches NOTHING and OMG my fourteenth #2 pencil just broke and I need a smoke and I don’t even smoke.

I’m a living proof those standardize tests do two things:
1. Prove nothing. I was told, after each test, to just go live barefoot in the kitchen because you stupid whore, you can’t even do a multiple choice test well and mygod what will society do with a creative thinker? and
b) traumatize me forever.

Which is obvious with the start of this post.

In other traumatic, although not unexpected news, I’ve gained weight. That’s right, laugh all you want. EATING CLEAN IS MAKING ME FAT. Yes. You read it here. DO NOT EAT CLEAN. Go! Eat your High Fructose Corn Syrup and your Corn-based by products and corn-fed chicken and turn in to a giant stalk of corn because at least you’ll be tall and thin and not round like an apple.

I say this for your health. Go eat a candy bar. Pronto.

I could probably blame a lot of things. I can blame my mid-thirty estrogen-imbalance. I could blame my new full time desk job. I could blame my love of a good dark stout or the fact that I am now making homemade meals nightly that rock our worlds and OMNOMNOM.

I COULD.

But I’m not.

I’m sitting here, on my spreading ass, in total awe. SHOCK and AWE if you will.

And so? Enters Hot Yoga.

If you haven’t done it, it’s like a sauna with other half-naked people sweating but bending over in front of you so as to reveal things about them that you will wish you could forget. But it will be branded in your mind forever.

FOREVER I TELL YOU.

The man who wore the tiny speedo-ish shorts? With the belly? And the tattoos? And the, OMG the, loudest breathing ever? And the slap-slap of your thighs? You are a hero to someone. I think maybe yourself.

The lady with the bra and shorts that twisted in ways I envision people pretending to know how in inappropriate chat rooms, just.. wow.

I have no room to judge, though. This is why I think Hot Yoga is the great equalizer. I left there as red as a ricotta, wet as rain. My pores were shiny. My legs shook. The heavy-tattoed-speedo wearing bearded man? Suddenly looked smart. A SPEEDO! DUH!

As painful as it was, as reminiscent of a Galveston Gulf Coast Mid-Afternoon in August, I ache to return. Ache being the optimal word. It’s oddly addicting, oddly rewarding and simply odd. Which fits me just fine. Unlike my pants right now.

Hi

12 guests here now.

Coming Up

So, I'm working on this Hall of Fame and I'll put the link here. One of these days. SOON! No, really, I swear-ish.

Also, totally working on my links to other friends, speaking events, and probably photos. PHOTOS! I know, right?

OMG, I tried hot yoga ONCE many, many, many moons ago when I worked at a fitness center. Yeah, I’m pretty sure I didn’t even make it through the entire class because I almost died!!! Good luck to you though!

So I love yoga, but the thought of sweating profusely while doing it doesn’t really put me in that yoga state-of-mind. So here’s a question. Don’t your hands and feet get all slippery with sweat and when you do downward dog or something you’re slipping all over the place?

Yeah, the fine print on the clean-eating regimen is that you have to scale back because every calorie actually has a purpose unlike each calorie in a pack of Fritos.

I have heard of this brand of yoga, and it was recommended to me. I feared it until now so I might have to try it. Or turn on the fireplace and try it in the living room so I can avoid Speedo Guy (I agree with Leigh - there’s always one…)

The good news - you’ve found an activity you like and your rack still looks fabulous.

Glad I’m not the only one gaining weight by trying to eat more healthy stuff. I’m walking a couple of miles each morning now—not quite brave enough to try hot yoga (not that there’s any classes in small-town West Texas).